The Sacrificial Trip

I had the experience of flying Porter Air this weekend. It was AMAZING. It was SO AMAZING, in fact, that I have decided to blog about it EVEN THOUGH I had vowed to myself NOT to blog about this weekend in NY for fear of looking like an irresponsible mother and a jetsetter.

So I’ll start by the justification : I went for Rob.

I confess, in the grand scheme of sacrifices I have made for my husband, this was probably the EASIEST to do. Last September, my saintly-non-complaining-husband transitioned effortlessly from his 12 hour a day job as a teacher (interspersed with the occasional 4 month stint at his other 24hours a day job at Camp Kirk each summer) to his new job as a stay at home dad.  And despite what mothers of 2 month olds may think, the job is still tough even if you don’t have to breastfeed or get up in the middleof the night. Rob has been LONG overdue for a vacation and a change of pace.

The first thing that tipped me off to this was his announcement one night in the hot tub that he had decided to fly to MONCTON by HIMSELF to watch the world CURLING championships.

Although that may sound like fun to SOMEONE out there, I took it as a cry for help.

Hence -- the trip to New York.

I know it isn’t Moncton. And I certainly wouldn't promise him any edge-of-your-seat- exhilarating-curling-watching while we were there, but if he was itching for a weekend away, this would have to do.

So off we went to New York.

OH, right, and the SECOND person I did this for was my mother. And father. (Can you see that light flickering in the distance? I think it must be my halo….) My parents have been going through Toby-withdrawal since our visit to Whistler in February (DAMMIT – I wasn’t going to mention THAT trip, EITHER on my blog…seriously, I DO work sometimes and also enjoy being with my son….) But my mother in Grand-son-withdrawal consists of increasingly frequent phone calls and lamenting emails…one of my favourites was a message I got on my answering machine a few weeks ago…

“Hi. (said in a sad drawl)
Its Grandma… (sigh)
Grandpa and I are heading to Loblaws which is Toby’s FAVOURITE store.
(at this point the drawl becomes more a whine..)
We are even going to get a MUFFIN which he LOVES to get at Loblaws...and we wondered if he could come with us…PLEASE mom and dad???”

Yes, of COURSE I’ll drive your grandson down 2 hours through rush hour traffic 45 minutes before bedtime so he can go with you to get a muffin at the one and only Loblaws store at St Clair and Bathurst. (sarcasm)

BUT…if it makes your life easier I WILL go to New York for the weekend with my husband and leave Toby with you for a full 36 hours so you can go to Loblaws and eat muffins to your hearts content ☺ (no sarcasm)

And hence, the trip to New York.  With Porter Airlines.  Which, coming back to my original point, was FANTASTIC.   To summarize - -after the full 5 minutes it took to go through check in and security the man in the uniform with the gun and the bleeper-thing actually SMILED at me, handed me my shoes and pointing me to the lounge and saying, “Fresh coffee to your left. Have a nice day!”

At first I thought it must be some secret code the FBI invented when they have decided to apprehend someone and I tentatively walked “to the left” expecting at any second to be grabbed from behind and strip searched….but found myself instead in a bright cheerful room complete with leather chair, free newspaper, IMAC computers, FREE bottled water, biscotti and of course….oodles and oodles of coffee. I could go on and on….Take my word for it. Go to NY. Leave the kids. Appease the husband. Then come on over after and we’ll compare halos…

Best part of the game...

I was sitting with my parents tonight watching the hockey game. We have to keep reminding my dad what we’re watching, who’s playing and why we’re cheering for whomever we’re cheering for. My dad used to be a scout for the Islanders and a hockey player himself…he also spends his days watching “Sports Centre”, hoping desperately for something exciting to happen. So the Stanley Cup Playoffs isn’t some sort of dementia-torture method -- we are all sitting here for HIM and he really SHOULD be following AND enjoying this.

Apart from his occasional cries of “WHERES THE DOG” it seems like he’s into the game. My mom, occasionally, needs to be reminded what colour each team is wearing, but in general she’s enjoying herself as well.

But the BEST moment came during a commercial.

The usual run of Ikea, Folgers Coffee and other commercials came on. But it was during the 100th showing if the Lotto 649 commercial that my dad came to life. Suddenly he was on the edge of his chair -- totally fascinated and amused…at the end of the commercial, as she unveiled her winning ticket and raced around her couch for the umpteenth time my father BURST into laughter and exclaimed, "Now THATS a good commercial!" and then, sitting back in his chair, puzzled “But what's FUNNY is that they TOTALLY changed it!!!”

Acting as if we hadn’t just seen that very same (UNCHANGED) add 5 times in the last 20 minutes, we chuckled and gave him a “thumbs up sign” him as he want back to watching the game.

“Now…WHO is winning?”

Going with the flow- - the new mantra

Some days it’s just not worth the fight.

ON a day like today, when I spent my lunch hour pronouncing a young patient who was taken far too soon, and the theme of my afternoon was “green discharge from you-know-where” interspersed with “I was in Mexico last year and I coughed once last night OH MY GOD, Doc, do you think I have the SWINE FLU??”, I arrive home and there’s just no fight left in me.

Toby is all about being outside theses days.  Which is great.  But Toby is ALSO all about doing everything HIMSELF.  And not having an afternoon nap.  And not wearing a hat.  Or shoes.  Or anything that takes me more than 10 seconds to get on him.  While throwing a hissy fit.

Meanwhile, Rob (understandably),  is all about “Oh good you’re home - -see you later” and taking off to the backyard.  So I’m left with the I’m-overtired-but-I-want-to-go-outside-but-I’m-overtired-but-I’ll-do-anything-in-my-power-to-go-outside-EXCEPT-if-it-involves-sitting-still-for-any-length-of-time-or-holding-your-hand-or-doing-anything-you-tell-me-to-do.

SO today I tried a new tactic :  I decided to go with the flow.

There were only two rules I enforced : the 30 minutes before bath time he could do WHATEVER he liked outside as long as a) he was wearing his hat and  b) he was neither ON the road nor IN the lake.

It was quite interesting, really.  I learned a few things about my son.  The first is that he has COMPLETELY and UTTERLY indelible feet. Part of my “go with the flow’ attitude involved abandoning the notion of him wearing any clothing- - including shoes.  So with only his bright blue fuzzy buns diaper and his tilly hat on (because DAMMIT I was going to win ONE battle tonight) he RACED past me to experience the great outdoors- - exhibitionist style.  Afraid he was going to break rule #2 I TRIED to race after him but the gravelly, stone covered driveway stopped me and my bare feet dead in my tracks. Ouch.  What are his feet made of, steel?  This kid cries if I wash his face but running barefoot through a big heaping pile of gravel - -no problem.  His newfound freedom took him and his superhero feet right to the tree-line where he chose to pick up rocks and launch them as forcefully as he could- - all 5 cm that his wee arms could throw them.  That lasted all of 25 seconds.   He then barreled past me onto the grass, trampling through the thistles and angry weeds and down the hill (falling numerous times on the way) all the way to dad’s “garden” (is basically a 10x5foot patch of MUD right now).  Head first, he went, into the garden.  Grinning with victory, he then proceeded to EAT the eggshells and coffee grinds that he found in his hair.  Did I forget to mention that Rob had scattered the compost over it earlier in the day?

Still… I went with the flow, as I steered him away from the lake…

Onto the shed where he ignored his own gardening tools and instead, attempted to pick up the GIANT shovel.  Not defeated by it, he resorted to eating the bits of “garden” on the bottom of it before taking off to the hammock.   He then threw his entire muddy-compost-covered-body onto it before promptly falling off the other side.

He then ran UP the hill, falling, again, over and over as he went, until he ran head first into this father.

All 2 feet of  him arrived gleefully, covered in dirt, compost,  and grass stains, sporting only his diaper and his hat.  Oh, and a HUGE grin on his face.  It was, quite possibly, the best 5 minutes of his life.

When Rob looked up at me inquisitively I merely shrugged my shoulders and said,  “Is it bath time yet?”

The Honesty of a Child

I’ve been struggling with my postpartum hair for a while now.   About 3 months after Toby was born I experienced The Great Hormonal Shift during which I suddenly realized that my life was OVER and my hair started to fall out.

Two months later, I realized life wasn’t OVER it was just DIFFERENT, and my hair started growing back in.

Unfortunately, I have been cursed AND blessed with crazy curly hair that has a mind of its own.  And when half of it suddenly decides to grow back in it comes back with a vengeance.   A vengeance that there is only one word to describe : a mullet.

You may not have RECOGNIZED it as such because I have gone to GREAT lengths to disguise it, but if you are one of the “lucky” few who get to see me first thing in the morning or  2 hours after a shower with no aesthetic intervention, you’d see it and be HORRIFIED.  I am not normally vain or much of a time-spender-on-my-looks, but in my attempts to conceal my hair’s act of rebellion, I bought a hair straightener, multiple hair products and more bobby pins than Toby could swallow in a day.

So now my hair is back to semi- normal  (in that it is now express itself in 45 degree angles, not he usual 90 degrees) but I find I’m still lost somewhere in the middle between iron straight hair and insanely curly hair.  My preference is the straight look – then if the mullet rears its ugly head I can use a few bobby pins to tame it.  But this involves time and energy.  The wash and go and lets-just-see-what-my-curls-have-in-store-for-today is MUCH easier, and after some reassurance on the part of my work colleagues and husband, I’ve decided to go with that look for a change of pace.

My first few days at work with my new curly do were better than I thought.  I didn’t get any gasps of horror, and I even got a few compliments.  I was feeling quite good about myself when I got home from work yesterday and Toby had a look at the new me.

Kids are honest.  Even if they’re only 13 months old and unable to talk to you, they have a candid ability to let you know EXACTLY what they’re thinking.  As I sat down on the floor next to him and started to read him a book he looked up at me and GRINNED as if to say, “mom, you look silly”.  Checking to be sure it was OK first, he then tentatively reached his hand out to “touch” the curls. And then, realizing that touching the INSANITY on my head WASN’T going to get him into trouble, he squealed with delight and did what we ALL want to do with curly hair – BOING.

And so I have a new “do” and Toby has a new “game”.  And even if everyone else thinks my hair is CRAZY at least I know I’m getting ONE honest opinion.  And at the VERY least I’ll now get an extra 20 min in my day to play “BOING” with my son and not fight with my hair.

Our Attention Span

Sorry for the long delay in updates, but I was busy drowning in the world of neverending meetings….not that it actually LASTED an entire week - - but it sure FELT like it did…

You see, along with the practice of medicine comes the inevitable committee.  And the problem with THIS committee is that it’s made up of a huge group of people that are NOT doctors - -true upstanding, honest, uptodate, able to concentrate individuals with drive and focus.

Have you ever been to a meeting or conference that involved DOCTORS?  It’s CRAZY.  I still remember the first family medicine conference I attended.  During the key note address people were scattered around the room eating, drinking, reading the paper, chatting, walking their babies around and frantically scribbling notes.  I looked around and felt immediately at ease- - everyone was as ADHD as I am when confronted with aural presentations.

The most RECENT talk I went to is PERFECT for family docs -- each talk lasted a total of 10 minutes.  That meant a 1 minute introduction followed by a 7 minute talk followed by 2 minutes of questions.  Brilliant.  That’s EXACLTY what us frazzled, inconsiderate, time sensitive, attention deficient doctors need.

SO this week I was at a meeting which was exactly the opposite.   Everyone sat patiently and attentively, listening to the minutia of logistical details on a subject that….I won’t elaborate on here….

I spent the first 30 minutes trying to contort my face into a position that made me appear somewhat interested.  I abandoned that within the first 5 minutes and concentrated instead on keeping my eyes open.  That game went on a long time.

Eventually I resorted to inventing a game to keep my brain from disintegrating into a big pile of mushy inattentiveness.  Here’s how the game went :  I counted to 100 as SLOWLY as possible and I tried to make it to 100 BEFORE the presenter moved on the next powerpoint slide.

The sad thing was – I lost at my own game.  The 3^rd slide lasted WAAY past 100 and the 4^th slide had me lose focus by 30.  I was a failure at my own game.

How I long for Monday when I can go to my office and do something I’m actually GOOD at.  A word of advice : don’t ask a doctor to be on your committee unless it involves Ritalin testing.

The Snort

I taught Toby how to snort today.

Not  on purpose, of course…he’s figured out how to raise his hands in the air when someone leaves the room and then look at me inquisitively as if to say, “Where did they go?”  He’s been doing it for a little while and its very cute so I APPARENTLY have started doing it back to him.  And, as I learned from him today, apparently I snort when I do it.

It's an impossible thing to explain on my blog.  It sounds RIDICULOUS to think that I SNORT when people leave the room.  Its ALSO ridiculous to throw your hands up in the air everytime someone leaves the room but we’re talking about a one year old here….

Anyway – today after work Rob went into the garage and Toby threw his hands in the air and snorted about 10 times before I checked myself fand noticed that I  was doing that too.  How interesting, to learn such intimate details about oneself by watching your child’s latest discoveries…I wonder what else he’s going to pick up…

My Favourite Socks

Yesterday I carried with me a secret that kept me smug and smiling all day long....

My socks matched my sweater.

I don’t know what weird combination of nature and nurture left me with this odd necessity to match my socks and my outfit, but it’s like a little triumph every time I pull it off.

I got these socks - -my FAVOURITE socks – for Christmas this year. They are brown and they have little diamonds in baby blue and brown on them with dark brown lines going through them.   I love them.  When I find them clean in my drawer I get excited.

These socks were particularly special to me yesterday because I had a near death experience with one of them over the weekend.  Rob had done a MILLION loads of laundry because it was a beautiful weekend – and the way I feel about having matching socks with my outfit is only a small glimpse into the joy Rob feels about being able to put clothes on the clothes line to dry– we’re an odd pair.  This may not bode well for Toby…

So as I folded up the crispy-clothes-line-dried-clothes I found ONE of my favourite socks….and by the end of the MILLIONTH load I realized that the OTHER one was missing.

I searched FRANTICALLY for it while Rob sat in the background rolling his eyes. 

I searched through all the freshly folded clothes.  No sock.  Then I searched the washing machine.  And THEN the DREADED though occurred to me that MAYBE it had….BLOWN AWAY.

Rob, meanwhile, continued to roll his eyes.

I went outside in my bare feet and searched the ground and would you believe it?  I FOUND my brown sock CAMOFLAUGED in the dirt.  It ALMOST didn’t get found.

So yesterday, after cleaning my sock for the SECOND time and hanging it INSIDE to dry this time, I put my socks on with pride and even wore with it my baby blue sweater with brown diamonds and dark brown ribbing on it.  Sound familiar?  That’s right- - it was a PERFECT match and I felt good about it ALL DAY.